


Sea of stimulation

by celebrain



Category: Tron (Movies)
Genre: Confessions, F/M, Misunderstandings, Pining, Public Display of Affection, Romance, Seduction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:35:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23397115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celebrain/pseuds/celebrain
Summary: When Quorra met Zuse, she quickly understood that he had a clear preference for strong, influential, domineering programs. Which was totally fine, of course, and not regrettable at all.
Relationships: Castor | Zuse (Tron)/Quorra (Tron)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 11





	Sea of stimulation

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know. I just. think they'd be cute together.

It started out completely innocent. Brief touches on her shoulder when he talked to her, a hand on her back as they walked together, little pecks on her cheek whenever they met. Quorra didn’t think anything of it, because that’s just what Zuse did, flirting, invading your personal space, reeling you in, making you trust him. She continued not to question it, until they were watching a particularly spectacular lightcycle battle, and he put his arm around her and didn’t let go until the end. When he introduced her to the winning champion afterwards, he kept holding her close in a way that could be interpreted as possessive, if the notion wasn’t so completely absurd. They were friends, and friends didn’t tend to act like that. Unless… no. When Quorra met Zuse, she quickly understood that he had a clear preference for strong, influential, domineering programs. Which was totally fine, of course, and not regrettable at all. It occurred to her that this might be the reason why these casual touches were so natural for him. If any romantic interest was out of the question, body contact would be just a harmless expression of platonic affection. She tried to suppress the pang of disappointment that came with the realization, feeling entirely inappropriate. If he knew about her silly thoughts, he would probably laugh at her, or worse, pity her.  
  
And her suppression technique worked, at least until he invited her to the club again, and she ran out of excuses.  
  
Quorra spots him immediately upon entering. It’s hard not to, really, Zuse is like a beacon. Part of her wants to turn around and run, but she knows that this is the part she needs to delete.  
  
His face lights up when he sees her, and she can’t help grinning in return. Oh, Creator, she’s missed him so much. He pulls her close and she’s expecting the usual peck on her cheek, but it’s dangerously close to the corner of her mouth this time. Still platonic, she reminds herself, and lets herself be guided into the club. He introduces her to an awful lot of programs which she couldn’t remember the names of even if her existence depended on it, but he can, and she can see how very appreciated it makes them feel. It’s tiring, somewhat, conversing and smiling at all of these new programs after she’s spent too much time pondering at home. He sees it in her expression, of course he does, and he takes her hand, tells his friends to enjoy the evening, and brings her to a sitting area. She’s grateful, starting to unwind, looking forward to spending the evening with her best friend. That is, until he sits down and spreads his thighs, and guides her to sit between them, pulling her back against his chest. Still platonic, still platonic, she continues her mantra to calm herself, trying to relax and not let him feel her tension, because he reads people like open books, and she’s no exception to that. She doesn’t know where to put her hands, and places them in her lap. He seems to know exactly where to put his though, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her close, the other lying on the backrest of the couch. The part of her that wanted to flee earlier is practically vibrating right now, held and owned and cherished and oh, Creator, he’s way too good at this, at giving people what they want, even if they don’t know yet how much they want it. He must be toying with her on purpose, she thinks, there must be a reason for all of this, but she mentally chastises herself before she can even finish that thought.  
  
“Darling, you’re squirming. Would you prefer to dance?”  
  
She doesn’t miss the smile in his voice, his velvety voice, which is terribly close to her ear. She freezes immediately. It would be better to keep some distance, wouldn’t it? But she can’t possibly say that she wants that, because it’s a blatant lie.  
  
“No, this is fine. Just… my disc is digging into my back,” she says apologetically, expecting him to give her some space in response.  
  
His hand is nudging her shoulder, and she leans forward, ready to stand up.  
  
“Would you like me to hold it?” he murmurs, and she feels his hand gently tugging at her disc.  
  
Now this… this is unexpected. As far as she knows, not even lovers trust each other enough to hand over their discs.  
  
“Yes,” Quorra breathes, because it’s what she wants, and then she feels the clasps on her back click and her identity is taken from her. Zuse puts it around his arm and draws her close again. It’s way too easy to melt into his chest, to let her head fall back against his shoulder.  
  
“Better?” he murmurs above her, and she hums affirmatively, not trusting her voice as she feels his breath on her hair.  
  
Maybe, she thinks, maybe it’s not a bad thing, to indulge in this. He started it, after all, and it’s not like she’s forcing herself on him. She’s only receiving affection, freely given.  
  
She turns her head, carefully leaning her forehead against his neck, trying to suppress a full body shiver at the skin contact.  
  
His arm tightens around her and he pulls her even closer, and she bites her lip, her fingers digging into her own legs. She should say something, anything. He’s unusually quiet, and she doesn’t like being alone with her thoughts, not now.  
  
But her thoughts vanish from her mind just a second later, when his other hand finds its way into her hair, and his clever fingers send electric sparks over her sensitive scalp. She shudders in response, leaning into his touch, gasping as he continues to run his fingers through her hair. He still doesn’t say anything, and she’s lost for words. Still platonic? This is an erogenous zone for her, and he… he doesn’t know about that. Or does he?  
  
It doesn’t matter, it feels incredible. One of her hands slides up to where he’s holding her around her waist, and he confidently grasps it and entwines their fingers. No big deal, she frantically thinks, they’ve held hands a million times, no need to interpret it differently now.  
  
Quorra is completely at his mercy, held securely, almost restrained, stripped of her identity. It’s good, it’s cozy, but she’s starting to get sick of being passive, of being manipulated.  
  
She still has one free hand, and she shakily moves it out of her lap and places it on his thigh. His lovely, soft, strong thigh, thicker than her own. His hand in her hair stills for a moment and she almost panics, thinking that maybe she’s completely misjudged the situation after all, but then he continues, more slow and sensual than before.  
  
The world around them has stopped existing long ago, her perception narrowed to the warm body behind her. She closes her eyes and carefully runs her hand up and down his thigh, squeezing lightly. It’s the first time that she’s actively caressing him, it feels intimate and electrifying and wondrous, like touching something forbidden, something precious. She swears that she can feel him shudder behind her, and then he presses a kiss to the top of her head and she can’t suppress a moan, feeling like she’s going to short-circuit right there.  
  
“Is this alright?” he whispers into her hair, and she freezes, dumbstruck.  
  
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she breathes, withdrawing her hands and turning her head to face him. “You’re asking me that now? After countless millicycles of… of toying with me, giving me hope, driving me completely insane, you’re asking me now if I… if I consent to being led on?”  
  
He’s staring at her, wide-eyed, and she knows she’s being too emotional but she can’t stop her frustration from surfacing after all this repression. It’s not right, he doesn’t deserve this, and she needs to calm down.  
  
“I’m sorry, I… I need some time for myself.” She stands up, legs feeling like jelly, and walks to the elevator. Before stepping inside she realizes that she didn’t take her disc back, but before she can turn around something on her back clicks into place.  
  
It’s a disc, but it’s not hers.  
  
Memories are uploaded into her system at a dizzying speed, some of which are familiar, but not her own. The first time he saw her, introduced by the Creator himself, not a mere program, but so much more. The stars in her eyes when she saw the End of Line for the first time and discovered her passion for dancing, her talent, her surreal grace. The games, where she can hardly contain her excitement and enthusiasm, looking as if she’s ready to jump onto the grid and participate at any moment. So vibrant, so beautiful, so alive. Once you’ve met her, you’ll want to be around her all the time, as close as possible. She’s addictive, she’s intoxicating. Wonder, admiration, adoration that is usually reserved only for the Creator, now directed at her.  
  
When Quorra reboots, she notices that her legs have given out. Strong arms are wrapped around her, holding her upright.  
  
“Forgive me, I know this is unorthodox,” Zuse breathes against her ear. “But I needed you to see.”  
  
“Take mine,” she whispers shakily, slowly regaining control over her body and turning around in his embrace.  
  
“Are you sure?” he asks softly, but she’s already taking her disc out of his hands and putting it behind his back. His eyes go white for a moment as her memories synchronize, and she holds him tightly, burying her face in his neck.  
  
“Oh, darling…” he chuckles fondly, and she was right, of course he’d laugh at her.  
  
“Shut up,” she breathes, grinning, letting out an undignified squeak when he cradles her face in his hands and kisses her, actually making her short-circuit this time. They tumble to the floor and she lands on top of him, shivering all over, feeling like a Tesla coil. She’s distantly aware of the other programs around them cheering and whooping at them, and Zuse laughing against her mouth, holding her tightly as he continues to send sparks though her body with his wicked tongue.  
  
“I want you,” she gasps, though he already knows that.  
  
“You have me,” he murmurs hotly, running his hand over her back, over his disc. “You’ve always had me.”


End file.
